


Let Me In

by LadyLibby



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Awkward!Daryl Dixon, BAMF!Reader, Canon-Typical Violence, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Mutual Pining, Prison-Era, Protective!Daryl Dixon, Romance, Set between Seasons 3 and 4, Teacher!Reader, Zombies, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24824473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLibby/pseuds/LadyLibby
Summary: “This place you have,” You said. “It’s secure?”“Yeah.” He scoffed, as if the question offended him. “Th’prison about three miles west.”The prison. You were much farther south than you’d thought.“I can take ya there, but you’ve gotta answer some questions first.”Now, without his crossbow in your face and the undead approaching, you could properly look the archer over. He was dressed practically, long dark sleeves and pants under a worn leather vest. He knew how to blend in. Probably a hunter based on the weapon and how easily he’d snuck up on your little camp.He wasn’t terribly tall, but he looked strong–the shirt tight around his arms and chest. He kept his expression stony, but he continued to hold your gaze, blue eyes locked in on your own. He was a man who’d done things and seen even more.But then so had you.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Reader, Daryl Dixon/You, Maggie Greene/Glenn Rhee
Comments: 54
Kudos: 211





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> It's my first Daryl Dixon fic! I'm super in love with this man and rather fond of this story, so I hope you guys like it. <3
> 
> This is set sometime between Seasons 3 and 4, after they take in the Governor's people and settle in at the prison. Big thanks are in order for my delightful beta and friend, Nyvera. She's kind of the best :D

Every day, the air grew colder. Fall had arrived, and winter wasn’t far behind. 

At first, when you started seeing your breath hang in the air, it was a relief. A respite from the suffocating heat of Georgia in the summer. The girls loved it. Sophie would puff out a big breath, watching the silver cloud. She called it “dragon breath.” Lily giggled, growling like a fierce beast and playing along. 

They made you smile. Even now, in this world with the undead and the constant fear, children were still children. After Nicole, after Mark, you’d been afraid they might never smile again. As you walked steadily along, their laughter reminded you there was hope.

But now the cold was no longer a toy. You’d wrapped the girls up in any extra clothes you had, but they still shivered. You needed to find shelter. Your little tent wouldn’t do once winter came. It was barely enough now, too cramped and starting to tear along the seams. You needed a place with walls, at the very least. 

“Alright, my dragons,” You paused, turning and crouching down in front of them. “We need to find a lair. Dragons are known for their excellent eyesight, so I need you to keep a lookout for houses, okay?” 

“Okay.” Sophie nodded. 

Lily tugged on the older girl’s shirt. “Will there be treasure in the lair?” 

“Maybe.” You stood up, taking Lily’s hand in your left and Sophie’s in your right as you continued walking. “Most dragons start out with an empty lair. Then they bring treasure back to keep it safe.” 

“Oh,” Lily said, furrowing her brow. 

She always did that when she learned something new. Back in your third grade classroom she’d done it, like every piece of information was serious as life and death, to be taken in and considered carefully. 

“You girls remember the Picnic Game? We haven’t played that in a long while.” You mused. “Why don’t we turn it into the Dragon’s Lair Game? I’ll start–I’m going to my Dragon’s Lair and I’m bringing...my map. You next, Soph.” 

Sophie thought for a moment, looking out at the orange and red leaves swinging in the trees. She let go of your hand, walking a few steps ahead and picking up a freshly fallen leaf.

“I’m going to my Dragon’s Lair and I’m bringing my map and a maple leaf.” 

Lily squeezed your hand, smiling. “I’m going to my Dragon’s Lair and I’m bringing my map, a maple leaf, and a bag of M&Ms!” 

You smiled at that, remembering when she’d brought in a little bag of candy for each of her classmates on her eighth birthday. 

“Ah, my turn again. Let’s see if I can remember.” You adjusted the heavy pack on your back. “I’m going to my Dragon’s Lair and I’m bringing my map, a leaf, a bag of M&Ms, and...my favorite book.” 

“Which book is it?” Lily asked. 

“ _ Station Eleven _ by Emily St. Mandel. Maybe I’ll tell you the story at bedtime once we’ve finished with  _ The Penderwicks _ .” 

“I’m going to my Dragon’s Lair,” Sophie moved on. “And I’m bringing my map, a leaf, a bag of M&Ms,  _ Station Eleven _ , and my polka-dot dress.” 

The game kept Lily and Sophie entertained for a while, keeping their thoughts occupied and their memories sharp. By the time noon rolled around, with the sun shining through the thinning branches from directly above, the girls were fed up. 

“Y/N, can we stop?” Sophie asked, her tone just north of a whine. 

“Yeah, I’m hungry.” Lily chimed in. 

Unease twisted in your stomach. You didn’t have time to waste on this. You considered suggesting another game, encouraging them to press on for just a little longer. But one look back at Sophie with her big, pleading brown eyes, and you were sunk. 

“Okay,” You sighed. “Just a few minutes, though.” 

You led them a few paces to the left, towards a fallen tree. Sophie and Lily sat down while you swung your pack down off your back to rest against the trunk. You pulled out your canteen, twisting off the cap and handing it to Sophie. Assessing the meagre food supplies left in your bag, the unease grew. You grabbed two of the remaining four protein bars, handing one to each of the girls. 

While Sophie and Lily ate, you opened up your map. Ever since leaving the subdivision, you’d been heading southwest, towards the ocean. 

Well, you were pretty sure you were heading southwest. You’d learned what you could from Mark, but the last few weeks without him...you were flying blind and you knew it. 

You reached behind your back, fingers brushing the gun tucked into the waistband of your jeans. Without ammo, it was useless. You should have tossed it away long ago. 

But you couldn’t. 

_ “You have to survive. For the girls.” _ He’d said, hands wet with the blood leaking from the bite on his shoulder.  _ “There’s only one round left. You know what you have to do. It’s okay, Y/N. It’s alright.” _

Mark had pressed the weapon into your shaking hands, resolute in his decision. You had to hold it in both hands to aim properly, you were trembling so much. 

Movement among the trees caught your attention. 

You pulled your hand away from the gun, pushing away the memory. No time for that. Not now, not ever.

“Quiet.” You held up a hand, silencing the girls’ chatter. 

You stepped closer to Sophie and Lily, looking out into the forest. One of the undead wandered a few yards away, groaning. 

“Stay here.” You ordered, “Have your knives ready.” 

The girls nodded, eyes wide and alert. You unsheathed your own knife from its place at your hip, keeping your gaze on the undead. Staying low and quiet, you moved in an arc, sneaking up behind it. Before it could see you, you jumped, driving your blade into its skull. 

You pulled the knife free, wiped it as clean as you could on the ground before putting it back. You ran back to the girls, keeping watch for more of the hungry things. 

“Are you both okay?” You asked, reaching for them. 

“Yes.” 

Lily nodded, looking over to where the body lay, dead for a second time. You knew she was thinking about Mark. 

“We need to keep moving.” You pulled your pack back on. “There could be more undead nearby.” 

You helped the girls off of the log and to their feet. It was time to move on.

~

Another day passed before you found the house. 

Truly, the place was more of a shack than a house, but to you it looked like your dream home. 

You told the girls to wait outside while you made sure the inside was clear. All the windows were boarded up, leaving the interior dim and dusty. With your flashlight in one hand and knife gripped in the other, you crept through the abandoned house. 

You found none of the undead, but the place had clearly been picked through before, with tables overturned and cabinets left open and empty. You backtracked to the front, finding the girls waiting with big, hopeful expressions. 

“I think we’ve found our lair, my dragons. Come help me look for treasure.” 

The girls looked for food while you cleaned up the space, righting the furniture and clearing out some of the debris strewn across the floor. With a space cleared, you rolled out your sleeping bags and clothes to air out a bit for once. 

Designating an area on the kitchen counter for food, you laid out the last of your rations. Sophie added some cans of soup and beans she’d found underneath the sink. Lily hefted an old camping lantern from behind the moth eaten sofa, staggering as she carried it over to you. You took the burden from her, setting it down beside your makeshift sleeping area. 

Hands on hips, you surveyed the space. It wasn’t much, but it was better than you’d seen in weeks. 

“I think I heard a stream nearby.” You said, grabbing the almost empty canteens. “I’m going to get us some water. Stay inside and away from the windows. See if you can find any books for reading practice while I’m gone, okay?” 

“Do we have to?” 

Sophie sighed and you could swear you saw an eye roll. The twelve-year-old got more and more like a teenager every day. 

“Just because the world is different doesn’t mean we stop learning.” You kissed each of them on the top of their heads. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.” 

The unease, the constant awareness and need for survival never left you. But walking through the woods in the autumn sunshine with a little more certainty at your back made you feel lighter. You crouched beside the creek, filling the bottles first before unsheathing your knife and cleaning the dried blood and gunk from the blade. Listening to the calming babble of the rushing water, you willed your mind to relax, if only for a moment.

The moment didn’t last long. 

You were a few yards from the house when you saw him. A figure, very much not one of the girls, as he rounded the farthest corner of the house. He held a crossbow in his arms. 

The archer had yet to notice you, and in the few seconds of cover that remained, your mind worked at a mile a minute. From this distance, you had no chance with your knife. He’d get you with a bolt before you could take another step. He didn’t know the girls were inside yet. You had to buy enough time for them to hide, or better– escape. You just had to distract this archer for a few minutes and trust that the girls would know what to do. 

You pulled the gun from your waistband, aiming for his head. Sure, it was empty. But he didn’t have to know that. 

“Put the bow down. Now.” You ordered, catching his attention. 

He did the exact opposite, pointing his crossbow straight at you. Your heart rate picked up, fear fluttering in your stomach. Trying to keep the panic out of your expression and your breathing calm, you held your ground. 

“You have a hearing problem? I told you to put the bow down.” You repeated, raising your voice. “It would be even better if you lowered your weapon and  _ went away. Quickly. _ ” 

You put extra emphasis on the last part, praying the girls were listening and would understand.

“I ain’t got no hearing problem. And I ain’t putting nothing down. Not when ya got that gun in my face.” He had a twangy accent.  _ Country boy _ . 

You were shouting now. “I don’t want to have to shoot you, but I will unless you lower the bow and  _ go away _ .” 

The man tilted his head, long bangs falling across his forehead. He narrowed his eyes, catching on. His gaze flicked between you and the house. 

“Eyes on me, Legolas.” You cocked the gun.

“Ya got people inside?” 

“The only one you gotta worry about is me. I’m only gonna tell you one more time.  _ Leave right now and you get to live. _ ” 

You risked a glance towards the house, dismayed to see two sets of big brown eyes staring back at you through a gap in the window boards. You set your jaw, trying to tell them to  _ get out of there _ with a look. 

Unfortunately, the stranger had seen them too. Instead of shooting you or going for the door, the ferocity slipped from his expression. He kept the bow up, still eyeing your gun, but he raised his other hand in a show of surrender. 

“That ain’t no place to stay for the winter. I got a group. There’s about twenty of us. Kids, too.” He said. 

You didn’t know why, but you believed him. He held your gaze as he spoke, free hand still up in surrender. Your grip on the gun loosened slightly as you listened to him. The shack was starting to look worse by the second. 

“We have a place, food, shelter. I can take ya there if–” He stopped abruptly, hand moving in a flash as he released the bolt of his crossbow. 

You inhaled sharply, squeezing the useless trigger out of instinct more than intent. So much for your plan. He’d killed you and he’d probably kill your girls next. 

Except the bolt never hit you. Instead, the arrow whizzed over your shoulder. You heard the wet thunk of it hitting its mark. You spun around in time to see an undead as it fell, the arrow stuck right between its eyes. 

More of the creatures followed on its heels, staggering closer. You counted at least seven, but who knew how many more could be hidden in the trees. 

“Shit.” You hissed, tossing away the useless hunk of metal and unsheathing your knife. 

For the moment, you had to trust that the stranger wouldn’t take advantage of the distraction. There was still a chance he was telling the truth, that he could help you. The undead only wanted their dinner. Of that you were certain. 

One of them lunged for you, but you planted your boot into its chest, knocking it backwards into the undead behind it. You drove your knife through the first one’s skull, deep enough to get the one beneath it as well. Blood splattered across your face as you pulled the blade free, but you didn’t have time to care. 

Propelled by adrenaline and instinct, you worked your way through the pack. Your knife got stuck in the next one, and as you struggled to pull the weapon free, another creature lunged. The arrow hit its skull before it could get anywhere near you. With one more tug, you successfully yanked the blade free. You could see the archer in your periphery, a few yards back, fighting against the undead with you. 

Falling back towards the house, you counted only three more on your side. The first one went down easy, missing several limbs and moving slower than the others. While you finished off the second, pushing it back with your arm to get a clear opening, the third wandered past you, towards the house.

“Y/N!” The shrill scream sent a chill through you, right down to your bones. 

You whipped your head around, seeing Lily standing just outside the now open door, with a terrified Sophie in the doorway behind her. The third undead staggered towards them, closing in fast. You jammed your knife in the undead’s neck, not even noticing the blood that coated your neck and chest. 

You ran, feeling impossibly far away from your girls. 

“Lily!” You screamed, “Get back!” 

Lily just stood there, frozen in fear. Sophie, too, could only stare as the undead loomed above them, hungry and ready to kill. You pushed harder, willing your legs to move faster. But you were too late. The undead grabbed Lily by her little shoulders, teeth bared. 

The scream tore itself from your throat as the arrow flew, stopping the undead just inches from tearing the child’s flesh. The creature fell, knocking Lily down with its weight. 

You skidded to a stop, dropping to your knees in front of them. Desperately, you pulled its cold fingers away and held her up. Searching her with your hands and your gaze, you checked for bites and scratches. The child trembled in your grasp, big tears falling down her cheeks. 

You pulled her into you, holding her close. Sophie was crying now too, stumbling over to you. You pulled her into your embrace as well, cradling your girls to your chest. 

“You’re okay.” You whispered, patting their backs gently. “It’s okay, it’s all okay now.” 

The squelch of a knife being pulled from a body behind you reminded you that your reassuring words weren’t entirely true. You turned, pushing the girls behind you. You stood up, facing the stranger. 

He slung his crossbow across his back, but still eyed you warily. You held his gaze, sheathing your knife but keeping your hand on the handle. 

“This place you have,” You said. “It’s secure?” 

“Yeah.” He scoffed, as if the question offended him. “Th’prison about three miles west.” 

The prison. You were much farther south than you’d thought. 

“I can take ya there, but you’ve gotta answer some questions first.” 

Now, without his crossbow in your face and the undead approaching, you could properly look the archer over. He was dressed practically, long dark sleeves and pants under a worn leather vest. He knew how to blend in. Probably a hunter based on the weapon and how easily he’d snuck up on your little camp. 

He wasn’t terribly tall, but he looked strong–the shirt tight around his arms and chest. He kept his expression stony, but he continued to hold your gaze, blue eyes locked in on your own. He was a man who’d done things and seen even more. 

But then so had you. 

You thought about your girls, holding tight to the back of your shirt. You thought you could handle this. You thought you could keep them safe. 

You were wrong. Without this stranger, you would have lost Lily. 

“Okay.” You nodded. “Girls, go inside and treat the water while I talk to…” 

“Daryl.” He said. “Daryl Dixon.”

“Daryl.” You nodded before turning to the girls. “One drop of iodine each, okay? I’ll be there in a minute.” 

You brushed back their hair, smiling softly. You pried Lily’s hands away from you, crouching down and making her look at you. 

“It’s okay, sweetpea. Daryl and I are just going to talk. Go inside with Sophie.” 

Sophie kept her eyes on Daryl, unsure of leaving you alone with him. Lily grabbed the older girl’s hand and they disappeared back inside the ramshackle house. 

You settled your hands on your hips, facing Daryl again. “What do you need to know?” 

“Y/N, right?” He tilted his head, stepped closer. 

You nodded, holding your ground. “Y/N L/N.” 

“How many walkers ya killed?” 

“The undead?” 

Daryl nodded. You looked back at the bodies strewn out across the forest floor and did some quick addition. 

“Forty-seven.” You answered easily.

“How many people?” 

Your breath caught in your throat. The gun lay a few feet away, dark against the orange and red leaves. 

_ “You know what you have to do.” _ Mark’s voice echoed in your mind, followed by the gunshot. 

You met Daryl’s gaze again, trying to keep the emotion from your voice. “Just one.” 

He studied you, and you knew he’d heard it. Daryl’s gaze softened, and you had the strangest sense he knew exactly what you’d done.

The last question came out in a rasp. “Why?” 

This answer was easiest of all. Your expression sharpened, the conviction clear and hard in your voice.

“For my girls. To keep them safe. To keep them alive.” 

Daryl studied you a moment longer, gaze tracking from your head to your toes. He chewed the inside of his cheek, eyes narrowed as he made his decision. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay?” You couldn’t help the bubble of hope that expanded in your chest. 

“I’ll take ya to the prison. But y’all gotta come now. The light won’t last long and I ain’t fixin’ to be out after dark with all them walkers.” 

You had two options–risk it out here in the cold with almost no food and only your knife to protect the girls, or take a chance on Daryl Dixon. 

You nodded, coming to your own decision. “We’ll come with you. Give me five minutes to get everything together.” 

You didn’t wait for a response, turning and heading into the house. Lily and Sophie sat on top of their sleeping bags, heads bent together as they whispered. Their attention snapped to the doorway at the sound of your footsteps. 

“Get all your things packed up.” You said, “We’re leaving.” 

“But we just got here.” Sophie argued, standing up. 

You grabbed your pack, shoving the food off of the counter into the bag. Lily didn’t protest, she just silently rolled up her sleeping bag, passing it to you. You stuffed it in along with your own. 

“He was going to shoot you! We saw it out the window. We can’t just leave with him.” 

“We can’t stay here, either.” You reasoned, putting your hands on her shoulders. “We’re too exposed here, Sophie. You saw the undead that just came through. Without Daryl’s help, Lily might have died. He decided not to shoot me, and I’ve decided to believe him.” 

Sophie huffed an exasperated breath, but she walked over to her sleeping bag and rolled it up as well. You zipped up your pack and slung it across your back. 

“Got everything?” 

The girls nodded, one with a smile, the other with a scowl. 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

Daryl led the way, crossbow hanging across his back. You stayed a few inches behind him and slightly to the side. The weapon shifted slightly as he walked and you noticed the design on the back of his black leather vest– a pair of angel wings. How appropriate. 

Sophie and Lily walked close behind you, holding hands. You kept Daryl in your view at all times, willing to follow but not quite ready to trust. You kept your hand near the knife at your hip. Just in case. 

The four of you walked in silence for about a mile until Sophie finally spoke up, words rushed and sharp. 

“How do we know we can trust you?” She’d clearly been keeping that in for a while. 

“Sophie.” You chastised. 

To your surprise, Daryl stiffened for a moment at the sound of her name. Before you had time to wonder, he glanced back at the girl, smirking. 

“Ya don’t.” He turned back, but you could feel him watching you from the corner of his eye. “But ya trust Y/N here, right?” 

“Yeah.” Sophie admitted tersely. 

“Well she’s got her eye on me and her hand on that knife. If I tried anythin’ I’d be dead before I could regret it.” 

Caught, you felt your cheeks heat up. You kept your hand where it was, though, staring straight ahead. 

“Did we do something bad?” Lily wondered. 

“What do you mean, sweetpea?” You smoothed her hair with your hand. 

“We’re going to prison. Don’t you have to do something bad to go there?” 

You couldn’t help but smile. Even Daryl let out an amused huff at her innocent confusion. 

“No, Lily. You didn’t do anything bad. The prison...it’s not like it used to be. It  _ used  _ to be a place where you’d go when you did something bad. Sometimes good people went there too because the justice system isn’t always fair–” You saw Daryl raise an eyebrow at that. “But we can talk about that another time. Now, the prison is Daryl’s home. We can be safe there for a while.” 

“Like the neighborhood?” Lily wondered. 

“Kind of.” You said, keeping the memories at bay. “It’s more like we all live in one big house with tall walls and fences.” 

Lily nodded, her learning face back on. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but you got there first. Daryl didn’t strike you as a man of infinite patience, so you steered her in a different direction for a while. 

“Why don’t we play Quiet Eye Spy?” You suggested. 

“Fine.” Sophie agreed, looking morosely out at the forest. 

You reached the treeline after another hour. The tall fences and guard towers came into view– along with the walkers. 

Daryl held out an arm, motioning for you to stop. You obeyed, turning to the girls and putting a finger to your lips. They nodded, holding each other tighter at the telltale sound of the undead moaning. 

Daryl beckoned for you to follow him, staying low and keeping quiet as the four of you moved around the perimeter towards what looked like a makeshift gate. The doors were red and lined by spikes on either side. A walker was already caught on one, stuck and flailing. 

Daryl looked up towards the nearest guard tower. You followed his gaze, seeing movement inside. 

“When I whistle, run for the gate. I’ll cover ya.” He whispered. 

You nodded, grabbing each of the girls and getting ready. You watched as a door at the base of the tower opened and two figures emerged, a man and a woman. 

Daryl put his fingers to his lips, letting out a quick, sharp whistle. You gripped Lily and Sophie’s hands tightly, starting to run. The gate swung open slowly, the metal creaking and attracting the attention of a few walkers nearby. You could see them approaching in your periphery. As safety neared, you heard the rush of arrows flying behind you. 

You glanced back at Daryl. He stopped for just a moment to slam his knife in between the eyes of one lunging closer.

He was still too far out, with several more walkers on his tail. You pushed the girls on ahead of you, telling them to keep going. Daryl had saved your ass twice now, and you refused to let that be the reason he died. 

You pulled out your knife and turned back. 

You caught up to Daryl as he reloaded, walking backwards. Moving past him, you kicked the closest walker in the chest, knocking it backwards into one of the spikes. You fell back to stand beside him as Daryl finally let his arrow fly, hitting the next one in the face. 

“C’mon!” He shouted, grabbing your arm and running through the gate with you. 

The two strangers pulled the gate closed. You skidded to a stop. The girls ran to you immediately, wrapping their little arms around you. You patted their backs gently, trying to catch your breath. 

“Hell of an entrance.” 

You looked up, finding a woman smiling at you. She looked about your age, with short cropped brown hair and a pretty smile. The other person, a young asian guy, came to stand beside her, arms crossed. 

“I’m Maggie,” The woman introduced. “This is Glenn.” 

You extricated yourself from the girls’ grip, stepping forward to shake their hands. “Y/N. This is Sophie and Lily.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Glenn smiled. “Welcome to the prison.” 

You looked out past your new acquaintances. You noted a garden patch in the lawn, recently harvested it seemed. You could make out a converted prison-yard between two cell blocks, with water barrels and tables. In the distance, you saw a group of children running around an old basketball court with more people beyond. It looked like a home. 

You turned to Daryl to thank him, but he was already gone. You watched the angel wings on his back getting smaller as he stalked up towards the prison. 

“Alright girls,” You took their hands again. “Let’s go.” 


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just...I love Daryl Dixon so much.

Daryl took a drag from his cigarette, leaning on the guard tower railing as he surveyed the area. Everything was fairly quiet, apart from the distant shuffling and moaning of the walkers beyond the fence. Glenn and Maggie were down there now, trying to clear some of the more congested sections where packs tended to gather, pushing against the chainlink. Carol, Rick, and a handful of others walked the fields, working on the garden or bringing buckets of water back to the storage barrels on the basketball court. 

The cell block door rattled open below, followed by high pitched shouts and the sound of running feet. Daryl grabbed his rifle, ready to face whatever crisis had just begun. Children poured out into the yard, chasing each other and laughing. 

“Alright now,” called a familiar voice, “What did I say about screaming? We don’t scream unless there’s danger. It scares us grown-ups.” 

“Sorry, Y/N!” came the chorus of replies as the kids gathered around her. 

“Before I set you all loose, who can repeat what the assignment is?” Y/N asked, voice strong and authoritative. 

You sounded like a teacher. Daryl smiled to himself, remembering his own school days. He’d liked going to school–getting away from his father and Merle, being able to feel included for a while, even if it was just a few hours. 

He relaxed, leaning back down against the handrail and watching you work. 

“Create a game.” One of the kids – Daryl thought her name was Mika – piped up. “With at least five rules, um...at least two people, and a clear ending.” 

“And how long do you have to make it before I come to try it out?” You asked, looking for another answer. “Freddie?” 

“Forty-five minutes.”

“Right. You all know your groups?”

“Yes.” Came another chorus of replies and nods. 

“Okay.” You smiled. “Start playing!” 

The children scattered, running to all different parts of the yard, gathered into groups of three or four. Daryl’s gaze, however, stayed on you as you checked your watch and settled your hands on your hips to supervise the kids’ progress. 

Only a couple of weeks had passed since you arrived and only one since you started teaching, but the place already felt different. The decision to turn the library into a classroom wasn’t difficult. The council didn’t even have to vote on it. But what you did afterwards… 

First, you re-instituted the days of the week. Everyone else had given up long ago on keeping track of dates and days beyond the sun rising and setting. But, as you pointed out, which day was called Monday and which day was called Thursday didn’t really matter in the first place. So with the help of the council, you started a new week. 

With that semblance of long-term structure in place, you planned a school schedule. The kids would spend four days a week in the library with you, taking Wednesday and the weekend off to rest and help out with the work that always needed doing around the prison. 

The kids loved you. More than that, the kids fucking  _ respected  _ you. They wanted to go to class. But then who could blame them. 

You had an incredible duality to you. On the one hand, you were tough as nails. You were a force, whether fighting the walkers out there or advocating for your kids in here. You were fierce and strong, all in order to help others. 

That was the other side of you. You had this deep kind of caring about you. He’d brought more than his fair share of survivors to the prison since the Governor’s disappearance. Out of everyone, you were the only person to turn back, away from the allure of safety. And you’d done it to help him. 

As if you could feel his gaze, you looked up at the guard tower, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the sun. 

You smiled when you saw him, a big, genuine smile. 

He pressed his lips together and nodded stiffly, before clearing his throat and turning back to the field. Daryl stared resolutely forward, hoping you’d turn that goddamn tractor-beam onto some other poor bastard. He never knew what to do when you smiled. 

The first time it happened was about a week after he’d found you and the girls. He hadn’t seen you much since he’d handed you off to Maggie and Glenn. 

You’d been busy getting the girls settled in, meeting everybody, and finding your place in the group. And he’d been out for a few days. It was a hunting trip that had brought Daryl to you in the first place, but obviously he hadn’t come back with what he’d planned on. So he’d gone out again, determined not to come back until he’d gotten a good haul. Took him damn near four days, but he’d managed to return with a buck strapped to the back of his motorcycle.

Daryl was barely inside the gate when Sasha came up to tell him about the council meeting. The trip left him covered in dirt and muck, but that wasn’t particularly out of the ordinary, so Daryl didn’t bother taking time to clean up before heading to the library. 

He stopped short in the doorway, surprised to see you chatting with Hershel. Sophie sat at the table reading while Lily appeared to be drawing. 

You looked different. 

Back in the woods, Daryl had recognized you. Not because he knew you, but because he knew the position you were in. Dirt-smudged, hungry, and with a fierce look in your eyes, he recognized someone who’d been out on the road for too long. He knew what that was like, and he knew he could help. 

But in that library, you looked like something from a world he’d never seen. Your hair was brushed and let down, your face clean of dirt and grime, and your clothes as new and clean as they came these days. You weren’t dolled up or anything, but somehow just the sight made him feel like a walking mud puddle in comparison— worthless and dirty.

Then you’d noticed him. And you smiled. 

You had a beautiful smile. You were looking at him like he’d hung the damn moon or something. Daryl felt his chest tighten. 

“Hey, Daryl.” You said, turning away from Hershel to look at him. 

“Hey.” He nodded, wondering why his heart was beating so damn fast. 

“I heard the hunt went well.” He liked the sound of your voice, it was measured and grounded. He got the feeling you were too. 

“S’alright.” He shrugged. 

“I think a ten point buck qualifies as more than alright.” Hershel cut in. 

Your eyes widened at that. “Wow. You’re quite the hunter.” 

Daryl just shrugged again, avoiding looking directly at you and your smile. He didn’t like the way pride flared in his chest at your words. What the hell was wrong with him? 

Thankfully the rest of the council started to file in, signalling the beginning of the meeting. He started towards the table, halting suddenly as he felt your hand on his arm. Your touch was gentle and soft and his instinct to flinch faded as he looked up into your face.

“Daryl,” your voice was lower, more private. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.” 

“For what?” He furrowed his brow, confused. 

You let go, smiling again. “For taking a chance on us. This place...it’s—just, thank you, Daryl.” 

“‘S nothin’ ya need to be thanking me for.” 

“It is.” You insisted.

Daryl watched, getting more confused by the second as you called Sophie and Lily over from the library table. 

“I know it’s a bit old-fashioned for our brave new world and all, but my mother taught me to show thanks when it’s due and I’ve passed that along. So…” 

You put a gentle hand on Lily’s shoulder, nudging her towards him. The little girl looked up at Daryl with big wide eyes, lifting her hand and offering him the piece of paper she’d been drawing on a moment earlier. 

“Thank you, Mr. Dixon.” She said quietly before quickly retreating to your side. 

Sophie just eyed him suspiciously, echoing Lily’s statement in a surly grumble. She and Carl were cut from the same cloth, it would seem. 

“Uh…” He held the paper in his hand, looking down to see a stick figure with a crossbow standing with three others, one tall and two small. 

“Anyway, you have a meeting to get to so we won’t bug you any longer. Just been meaning to say thanks for a while and didn’t want to miss our chance.” You ushered the girls towards the door. “See you around, Daryl.” 

He watched you walk away, arm still tingling from where you touched it. He did not think he’d ever felt so utterly confused and betrayed by his own body. 

A whistle from the table behind him snapped him out of his thoughts. He turned to see the rest of the council seated and waiting. He cleared his throat, taking a seat next to Carol. She prodded him in the side with her elbow, raising an eyebrow. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red, Pookie.” 

“Shut up.” 

So he waited, up in the tower. He counted down the minutes for you to focus back on the kids and their games and away from him before he allowed his gaze to wander your way again. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop himself. 

~

“Somebody should take a look at that,” Carol reached for Daryl’s arm, trying to get a better look at the gash on his chest, just under his collarbone. 

“‘S nothing.” He shrugged her off. 

She crossed her arms, fixing him with a stern stare. “Doesn’t look like nothing.” 

“Ya need to get yer eyes checked, then.” Daryl grumbled, trudging up the slope and back towards the cell block. 

He didn’t need anybody to look at it. The cut was his own damn fault anyway, may as well just deal with it on his own too. 

It had been a run for food, ammo, and medical supplies. In that order. Him, Sasha, Glenn, a few of the Woodbury people, and one of those abandoned condo complexes. Get in, scavenge what they could find, and get out. Simple enough, done it a hundred times by now. 

It was a fucking box of crayons. He’d seen that stupid rainbow cardboard box up in a cabinet. One of those big boxes with sixty different colors he used to envy as a kid. Daryl had thought about the library, with the makeshift posters and decorations you’d made to make the place more exciting, more colorful, more joyful. He thought about Lily drawing pictures with a little worn down stub of a pencil. 

Then he stopped thinking and just reached for it. 

But the bow on his back shifted with the movement, knocking an empty wine bottle off the counter. 

It shattered. Louder than a fucking foghorn, of course. 

“Shit.” He cursed, hearing walkers moaning outside. 

Daryl dropped the box into his pack on top of the rest of his haul and made for the front door. The walkers were already there, pushing their way into the house. 

Daryl backtracked, taking down the closest one with an arrow. He pulled it out and stabbed the next one with it, but they just kept coming. He ended up smashing the kitchen window to get out, managing to catch himself on the glass in the process. 

Fucking stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Daryl sank heavily down onto his cot, squeezing his eyes shut against the frustration and the pain. He tossed his pack aside and stripped off his vest before gingerly pulling the neck of his shirt open to try and look at the gash. Daryl hissed in pain as the material of his shirt caught, pulling at the torn skin. 

“That doesn’t look too good.” 

His head snapped up so fast it nearly made him dizzy. You stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at his little crowsnest. You looked soft, wearing an old worn tee shirt and jeans with a long cardigan around your shoulders. 

Daryl shook his head, turning away. “‘M fine.” 

“Carol said you’d say that.” You chuckled, stepping closer. “Can I take a look at it anyway? I know it’s nothing you can’t handle, but I think I have a better vantage point. Wouldn’t want you going all cross-eyed if you don’t have to.” 

You had a point. The pain told him where it was, but apart from the blood trickling down his chest, he couldn’t really see the cut. Daryl shrugged in assent.

He kept his gaze on the floor, watching out of the corner of his eye as you moved closer, settling on your knees in front of him. With you just a few inches away, he couldn’t avoid looking any longer. Daryl settled his gaze on your collarbone, noticing the raised mark of a scar peeking out from beneath the collar of your shirt. 

“May I touch you?” You asked. 

He hated the way his chest tightened at the question, filling with both trepidation and longing. Daryl kept the words inside, choking on the yes that rose in his throat, managing a small nod instead. 

Your fingertips grazed his chest as you peeled his shirt away from the cut. Daryl stiffened, less from the pain and more from the sensation of gentle hands against his skin. You looked up, searching his face in concern. 

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” 

“Ya didn’t.” He managed, wishing for this to be over and never end in equal measure. 

You nodded, looking back down to inspect the gash. “It doesn’t look too deep, so I don’t think you need stitches. But I want to get it cleaned and covered to avoid infection. Can’t have our best man taken out of commission by something as silly as bacteria.” 

Best man? What had you been taking to think something like that? He was nearly ready to say that out loud when you pressed an alcohol swab to the wound. Daryl closed his eyes, inhaling in a sharp hiss. 

“Sorry, I know it stings like a bitch.” You dabbed gently around the cut. 

Daryl tried to distract himself from the pain. He wondered absently how you knew to treat the cut. You were a teacher, obviously. And a fighter. Your first meeting had proven that. But you knew medical stuff too. Was there anything you didn’t know how to do? 

“I can’t garden to save my life. I read up and I’ve tried many times, but the plants hate me.” You laughed. 

Shit. He’d said that out loud. 

“I learned a few first aid things out on the road. Good to be best friends with the school nurse...” You explained, trailing off as emotion rose in your voice.

He could tell there was more of a story there, but he didn’t press. 

You cleared your throat. “So what happened? A walker come at you with a knife?” 

“Nah,” Daryl huffed amusedly at the image. “Got pinned down, had to go through a window.” 

“Damn.” You hummed, pulling out a bandage and covering the wound. “There we go.” 

You sat back, smiling at him. His chest tightened again. 

“Thanks.” Daryl rasped, moving to stand. 

He needed to leave before you smiled at him again. 

“Uh-uh.” You leaned forward again, hands on his shoulders to keep him in place. “I’m not done with you yet, Dixon.” 

A shudder ran down his spine, a flurry of thoughts crowding his mind at your words. Daryl pushed them away, shame burning in his chest. Daryl focused on keeping still as you leaned closer, eye-to-eye with only an inch or two between you. You touched his jaw softly, tilting his head as you studied his face. 

“Should clean those too.” You murmured, more to yourself than him. 

Your eyes met his and neither of you moved for a moment. You looked at him in a way you shouldn’t. You looked at him like he was something worth looking at. Nobody looked at him that way. Nobody. 

He cleared his throat, shifting away before he did something stupid. You blinked, refocusing on your task. You cleaned the knicks and scratches along his hairline and brow without another word. 

“Okay,” You smiled gently, getting to your feet. “All done.” 

You stopped a few steps down the stairs, looking back at him over your shoulder. “I’m glad you made it back, Daryl.” 

You left before he could say anything, not that he knew how to respond anyway. Daryl flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing but the soft way you looked at him. His movement disturbed his pack, tipping the bag onto its side. 

The box of crayons tumbled out onto the floor with a thud. 

Daryl didn’t have a chance to give them to you until the next night. You’d been busy helping with dinner and then school the next day. He’d carried the box with him all day, shoved into his pocket as he worked the fence and then took another shift in the guard tower. 

Finally, after night had fallen and nearly everyone had retired to the warmth and safety of the cell blocks, Daryl screwed up his courage and headed towards your cell. 

You slept on the lower level of C Block, between Beth and Michonne. Light from a lantern set the sheet you’d hung over the doorway aglow. Daryl stopped outside your cell, suddenly tempted to just turn tail and escape before you knew he was there. 

But then the sheet shifted and you poked your head out. A smile spread across your face at the sight of him. He shoved his hands into his pockets, touching the box of crayons like a luck rabbit’s foot. 

“Hey, Daryl. You need something?” 

“I, uh,” He coughed. “I came t’give ya something.” 

“Oh, okay.” You raised your eyebrows, pulling the sheet back and gesturing for him to come inside. “Pardon the mess.”

He followed, stepping into the warm glow of your room. If you thought this was a mess, he wondered what you would have thought of his childhood home. Your pack and some extra clothes lay on the top bunk. The bottom held a stack of books, one left open on top of your threadbare pillow. You shoved the books out of the way, making room for the both of you to sit. Daryl saw your boots on the floor beneath the bed, leaving you barefoot. The moment felt strangely intimate, making his stomach twist.

“I interrupted yer reading. I can come back–” 

“No, it’s alright.” You held up a hand, “Please, stay.” 

Daryl couldn’t have refused even if he wanted to. He sat down next to you, conscious to keep a few inches of space between your bodies. You turned, tucking one leg underneath yourself to look at him. 

He gazed at the book you’d been reading.  _ An Introduction to Anatomy and Physiology _ . 

“Light reading?” 

You followed his gaze, chuckling when you realized what he was looking at. “Not exactly. If I’m going to teach the kids what they need to know, I gotta make sure  _ my  _ understanding is up to snuff. I was only two years out of college and in the classroom before the turn. Even then I was just teaching third grade.” 

“That ain’t nothing.” He frowned at the dismissive way you spoke about your job. 

“No, but these kids need better than just times tables and storytime. Teaching is meant to prepare students for the world and this world is...well, it’s different than the one I was trained for. I want them to be kids and have fun, but I also need them to know where to stab a walker if it comes for them.” You tapped the cover of the book absently. “I want them to know how to survive.” 

Daryl nodded, watching you in awe. Even after three years, most people still didn’t understand that the world was different. They thought that kids could still be carefree. They believed that they could shelter and hide from the grim reality of survival–death and violence. 

But you didn’t. You weren’t stuck trying to rebuild a world that was gone. Instead, you knew you had to look for ways to adapt to the new one, finding how to live rather than searching for everything that was lost. 

“Anyway,” You sighed, smiling sheepishly. “You didn’t come to hear about my lesson plans.”

“Yeah,” He coughed, reaching into his pocket. “On the run yesterday, I, uh, I found somethin’. Thought maybe ya–” 

“Y/N?” Came a voice from the doorway.

The sheet moved, revealing Lily’s wide-eyed face. She shuffled inside, clutching a pillow to her chest like a stuffed animal. 

“Hey, sweetpea.” You slipped out of bed and padded over to her, crouching down to Lily’s eye-level. “You okay?” 

“I had a nightmare.” Lily said, voice small and trembling. 

Daryl stood up, feeling awkward and out of place. Like he’d been caught somehow. 

Still, his chest grew warm as you smoothed the girl’s hair down, speaking with a calm voice. “It was just a dream. You’re safe. You’re okay.” 

Lily nodded, but Daryl could still see the tears shining in her eyes. “Will you come tuck me in?” 

“Sure.” You kissed the top of her head before standing. You turned to Daryl with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I have to–” 

“‘S fine. Go.” He nodded, hating the guilt in your eyes. You never needed to apologize for looking after your own. 

“Okay. We’ll talk later?” 

Daryl nodded again, watching as you took Lily’s hand and walked out into the cell block. He stayed for a moment, wondering whether he should wait for you to come back. 

Standing there, alone with your books, he felt like an intruder. The space was soft and warm, like you. But he didn’t belong there, not with his muddy boots and his even muddier past. 

Daryl took the box from his pocket. He set it gently down in the center of your bed and then left, sheet billowing behind him. As Daryl stalked back down the corridor towards the stairs, the sound of your voice inside the next cell stopped him in his tracks. He knew he shouldn’t, but Daryl peeked inside. 

You lay on the bottom bunk, sandwiched by Lily on one side and Sophie on the other. You had an arm around each of them, their heads resting on your chest. They cuddled close, eyes closed as they listened to you telling a bedtime story. 

Daryl stayed for longer than he’d like to admit, captivated by your story of a band of actors and musicians traveling a world stripped of civilization. A tale of people who stuck together to make art and find life in a lifeless time. He stayed until your voice faded to a whisper and then fell silent as you fell asleep alongside your girls. 

Daryl couldn’t help but smile at the sight, affection blooming in his chest. You looked calm and content as you slept, like your days were full of laughter and love rather than fear and death. 

For a moment, he wished he could make it that way. He wished he could make it safe so you could do silly science experiments and perform plays with the kids instead of teaching them how to fight and survive. Daryl wished he could make you smile at him every day. 

A cough from one of the other cells drew him out of his thoughts. 

Daryl pulled away from the door, trudging back up to his bed. He pushed you from his thoughts, reminding himself of the reality you both lived in. Attachments were dangerous and he’d seen plenty go wrong long before the world went to shit. Daryl was asking for trouble, thinking about you like that. He needed to lock down the way he felt about you, hide it deep down until it went away. 

He had to. 

Daryl lay down in his perch, tossing an arm over his eyes. Despite all his resolve, his dreams were filled with your smile. 


	3. Chapter Three

You walked through the prison yard, fallen leaves crunching beneath your feet. You were doing your best not to alter your stride from normal. Of course, the more you thought about it, the harder it became to know  _ what _ normal meant. 

Better to stop thinking about it entirely. You took a breath, trying to distract yourself as you continued along. 

Today, you were teaching the kids about tracking. 

Well, really Daryl was teaching the kids about tracking, but it was your idea. Ever since Carol had told you about what happened to Sophia, the thought had been stuck in the back of your mind. If someone went missing, or one of the kids got separated, they should know how to find each other. 

You hadn’t expected Daryl to say yes. You figured it was worth asking, the question coming as an afterthought when you thanked him for the crayons. You figured he’d say no and then you’d just research enough basics to pass along to the kids. 

But he’d surprised you. 

“I can show ‘em,” He hesitated for a moment, chewing on the side of his thumb, “If ya want.” 

“Really? I know you probably have other stuff you need to do so it’s really okay if you don’t want to.” 

“Nah,” Daryl shook his head, “They need t’know how t’survive, right?” 

“Right.” You smiled. 

You’d both agreed that going out into the woods beyond the prison wasn’t an option. Instead, you scoped out an area of the yard further from the cell blocks that went relatively untouched by the rest of the community. Perfect for a hands-on tracking simulation. 

Daryl said he didn’t want to know the route ahead of time, didn’t want to know more than the kids so he couldn’t necessarily give them the answers if they got stuck. 

“Ain’t no answer keys out in the real world.” He’d grumbled, making you laugh. 

He’d instructed you to do various things along the way– walking, running, fighting or struggling against something, and limping. 

Obviously, you knew the order didn’t really matter. They just had to learn how to identify the signs, but you couldn’t help coming up with a story. That was just how your brain worked. 

You walked from the cell block door down the hill until you were about two thirds of the way to the fence. Then you broke into a run, stopping yourself by hitting the chainlink. You shuffled around down there for a bit, skidding and using the fence as leverage to disturb the ground in the same way you would if you’d been pinned by a walker. 

Satisfied with your staged scuffle and mindful that you only had a twenty minute head start, you moved on. You headed back up the hill, limping this time, veering right towards the nearest guard tower. 

You finished your walk, swinging the tower door open and climbing to the top. The choice to make the final destination the guard tower had been purposeful– it was the perfect place to observe your class. 

To your surprise, however, you weren’t the only one there. 

“Oh, hey Mags.” You greeted. “I didn’t know we had a watch rotation in this tower.” 

“We don’t, really.” Maggie shrugged, leaning her rifle against her shoulder. “But you can’t be too careful.” 

“And it’s a nice quiet getaway.” You mused. 

You moved to stand next to her, looking out over the yard together. You liked Maggie a lot. Maybe it was your closeness in age or your shared experience of having to step up for your people to survive, but the two of you had become friends from about the first day you arrived. 

“I don’t see that husband-shaped shadow of yours…” You teased, looking around the otherwise empty tower. 

“Glenn’s on a run with Sasha and Tyreese.” Maggie laughed, shaking her head. “What’re  _ you  _ up to? I saw you flopping around down there. Looked like you were having some kind of episode.”

It was your turn to laugh. “I’m fine, don’t worry. We’re doing an interactive lesson on tracking today. I had to leave signs of running, limping, stuff like that for them to identify.” 

“We?” 

“Oh, I’m just the assistant today.” You heard the cell block door open, turning to watch as the kids poured out into the yard. “The guest teacher–” 

“Is that  _ Daryl? _ ” Maggie’s eyes widened. 

“It is indeed.” You smiled, resting your arms on the railing. “Figured they’d learn best from an expert.” 

“Oh my God, look at him.” Maggie chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand. 

With the initial excitement of getting away from the classroom fading, the kids clustered around Daryl, waiting for instruction. Even from far away, his discomfort was palpable. His posture was stiff and he held his arms close to his body, as if afraid the kids might give him some kind of disease. 

Guilt gnawed at your stomach. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left him on his own…”

“He agreed to do it, right?” 

“Yeah...but–” 

“This will be good for him.” Maggie said. “Just wait.” 

The guilt melted steadily away as Daryl waved his hands awkwardly, motioning for the kids to  _ get on with it _ . Pride flared in your chest as Sophie broke out from the group first, crouching down and looking at the ground. She called back to the others, pointing down at the leaves. 

Daryl nodded, and you could see some of the tension leave his shoulders as the children headed over to join Sophie. Lizzie picked up the trail next, and they were off. Daryl brought up the rear, quietly observing their progress. 

“Hang on,” You heard him call, beckoning the class back a few steps.

They’d completely bypassed the point where you’d started to run. You smiled, watching as he crouched down, showing them the differences between the old trail and the new one. The class continued on towards the fence, close enough now that you could hear what they were saying. 

“It’s the end of the trail.” Patrick said.

“No, something happened. Look,” Sophie pointed down at the base of the fence. “All the leaves and dirt have been moved around.” 

“She was running again.” Mika guessed. 

“Nah,” Daryl cut in. “Think about it.” 

Silence fell for a moment as the kids stared down at the ground, trying to figure it out. Finally, Sophie spoke up. 

“Was it a fight?” 

Daryl nodded. You grinned, pleased to see how fast Sophie was picking everything up. She was smiling too, which only made you happier. She’d been nothing but a ball of doom and gloom lately.

“But it ain’t over yet.” Daryl said, “What happened next?”

Daryl crossed his arms, waiting for them to find the final leg of the trail. He wore an old flannel with the sleeves ripped off and his leather vest, leaving his arms exposed to the bright Georgia sun. Your eyes lingered for a moment on the defined muscles of his arms before tracing the rest of his well-built form. 

You knew you shouldn’t, but you let yourself get lost in thoughts of what it might be like to be held by those strong arms, to be pressed against his firm chest or to have his calloused hands on your body, cradling your face as he…

Maggie nudged you with her elbow, eyebrows raised. “See something you like over there?” 

You cleared your throat, tearing your gaze away from the archer. “The man has nice arms, what can I say.” 

Maggie chuckled. “He needs a haircut.” 

“I like it long.” You mused, biting your lip. “But he’d probably look handsome either way.” 

Maggie studied you, a huge grin spreading across her face. “Oh, you’ve got it bad.” 

“Yeah, well,” You scoffed. “I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“What makes you say that?” Maggie frowned. 

You hugged your arms to your chest, shrugging. “I don’t think Daryl likes me very much. Every time I’ve tried to get to know him he’s gone all stiff. I think I make him uncomfortable.” 

“Everybody makes Daryl uncomfortable. He’s been through a lot.” Maggie reasoned. “Don’t write him off yet. He just needs some more time to loosen up around you.” 

“I guess.” 

“Hey, he agreed to spend time with a bunch of kids on his own for you.” She smiled. “That’s gotta count for something.” 

“Yeah,” You sighed, letting her words sink in. “Maybe you’re right.” 

“I’m always right.” Maggie teased. 

“Sure you are, Mags.” You chuckled, straightening up as the kids finally reached the base of the guard tower. 

“Look!” Lily shouted, pointing up at you. “We found her!” 

“Great work, trackers!” You called down to them. “Climb up for some high-fives and a quick debrief, okay?” 

The children clambered up the stairs, crowding onto the platform. Maggie hung back by the railing, watching with a soft smile. Daryl leaned against the wall by the door, stony-faced as always. You did a quick round of comprehension questions with the kids, checking that those who weren’t as vocal during the exercise still knew what to look for when they went out tracking. Satisfied with their answers, you asked them each for a high five before releasing them from class for the rest of the afternoon. 

“And make sure to thank Mr. Dixon for teaching you today!” You instructed. 

Warmth spread through your chest as each of them stopped by the door to thank Daryl, some offering him smiles and high fives which he awkwardly returned. After they’d all filed out, you glanced over at Maggie. She raised her eyebrows, subtly nodding her head towards the archer before turning her back and looking out over the yard again. 

“Really,” You said, catching his eye. “Thank you, Daryl. I think they enjoyed that.” 

Daryl shrugged, chewing on the side of his thumb. “S’nothing. They need t’know that stuff.” 

“They weren’t too much of a handful, were they?” 

“Nah,” He shook his head. “They’re good kids. Yer teachin’ ‘em right.” 

Your stomach flipped at the compliment. 

“For the record, I think you make a great teacher yourself.” You reached forward, tentatively patting his arm. He didn’t flinch, but Daryl stared at your hand like it was an octopus arm. You pulled back, feeling slightly embarrassed. 

Daryl cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze. “I should get back…” 

“Right.” You nodded, “Sorry for keeping you.” 

“S’fine.” Daryl frowned. “I’ll, uh–I’ll see ya, I guess.” 

“Yeah.” You bit your lip. “See ya, Daryl.” 

He hesitated for a second, finally meeting your gaze. You hadn’t talked with the archer much, but you’d learned that no matter how stony his expression or tough his talk, the truth lay in his eyes. Right now, Daryl looked at you with something you couldn’t quite place. It was softer than you expected, and you thought maybe he was about to say something else. 

But then his gaze hardened back into its familiar guarded expression. He turned and slipped out the door without another word. 

Maggie whistled. “Jesus Christ.” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I know.” 

“I wasn’t even  _ looking  _ and I could feel the tension.” She teased. “Glenn is going to be sad he missed that.” 

“You’re the worst.” You rolled your eyes. 

Maggie smiled. “Yeah, well when the two of you stop doing  _ whatever _ that was, you’ll change your tune.” 

“We’ll see.” You sighed. “We’ll see.” 

~

Even after the end of the world, some things don’t change. No more electricity, no more ice cream, no more movie nights or outdoor concerts. But there were still little things that hadn’t changed–the surprised, sort of dismayed laugh that only comes after a particularly bad joke, the change in the air right before it rains, and the fresh, soft smell of a baby in your arms. 

Judith gurgled, staring up at you with big, blue eyes. 

Beth had needed a break. You could tell she was itching to get away for a while and spend some time with Zach. You were more than happy to oblige, taking the little bundle from her. 

All around you, C Block hummed with the sounds of life. You sat out in the common space, sitting backwards at one of the tables. Rick and Michonne – the latter of whom you’d only met a couple of times since arriving– sat at the other table, heads bent in conversation. Past the barred gate, you heard the indistinct tones of younger voices as the children released their after-dinner energy. A few feet away, Carol and Daryl sat on the steps to the lookout in companionable silence. Carol darned a pair of socks with Daryl a few steps up, sharpening an arrow. 

Judith waved a chubby fist, cooing. You gazed down at her, warmth spreading through your chest. Looking at her calmed you immensely. Like seeing your girls smile, Judith’s wide-eyed and chubby face never failed to give you a sense of hope. There was still good out there. There was still beauty. She was living, breathing, drooling proof of that. 

You patted her back, eliciting an adorable little hiccup. Judith bobbed her head, as if surprised by the noise that had just come out of her. 

“Yes, sweet girl,” you chuckled. “That’s it.” 

Judith waved her hands again, smiling a big toothless smile at you. 

“Look at that smile!” You whispered, gently kissing her head. “Such a lovely smile.” 

Feeling an unmistakable tingle at the back of your neck, you looked up from Judith’s round face to find a different pair of blue eyes staring back. 

Daryl held your gaze, the same inexplicable softness hidden behind the streaks of grime and well-crafted mask of indifference. Your stomach flipped as your mind raced to interpret what the look on his face meant. 

“Hey, Y/N?” 

You turned away, focusing on the voice in front of you. Sophie stood a few feet away, arms crossed over her chest and her gaze on the floor. 

“What’s up, sweetpea?” You asked, noting her defensive body language. “Everything okay?” 

Sophie was quiet for a moment, kicking at the ground with the toe of her boot. Finally she swung her head up, meeting your eyes. 

“Can I have my knife back?” 

Your eyes widened, surprise flaring in your chest. You blinked, adjusting Judith against your chest. 

A few days after settling into the prison, you’d collected Lily and Sophie’s knives. Sophie had been more resistant, demanding to know  _ why _ before giving up her hold of the weapon. You’d explained that while the knife was an important piece of protection and Sophie needed to remember how to use the blade, she didn’t need to keep it with her inside the prison. She was safe without it. You’d wanted the girls to be able to run around and have fun without the burden of a weapon at their hips.

“Why?” You asked, “Do you need it for something?” 

“I mean,  _ no _ .” Sophie shrugged, looking down at the floor again before looking back at you. “But I  _ want  _ it.” 

“You don’t need it, Soph.” You said. 

“Yes, I  _ do _ .” She insisted, tone getting sharper. 

Judith wiggled in your grasp, as if distressed by the harshness in the older girl’s voice. Rick glanced over at you, taking stock of the situation. Recognition passed over his face. He got up and moved to your table. 

“I got her.” He said gently, taking Judith from your arms. 

“Thanks.” You nodded, before focusing back on Sophie. “Okay, Sophie. Let’s go talk about this.”

You stood up, hoping to guide her towards your cell or somewhere more private. To your dismay, the eleven-year-old just stood her ground, glaring. 

“There’s nothing to talk about. I want my knife back.” 

Crouching down so you were closer to eye-level, you gave her your best no-nonsense look. 

“You don’t need it, Sophie. Not in here. We’ve already talked about this.” 

“I need it for protection.” Sophie argued. “You’re always saying we need to know how to protect ourselves.” 

“Right. You need to know how to protect yourself if we go  _ outside  _ the prison. When that happens, I’ll give you your knife.” 

Sophie groaned, rolling her eyes. “Why can’t I just have it? I know how to use it. I’m not going to hurt myself.”

“I know.” You nodded. “I trust you know what to do with it. I  _ taught  _ you what to do with it. But Sophie, this is part of the lesson. Part of getting to have a weapon is knowing when to set it aside.” 

“That’s so stupid!” 

“Hey, we don’t use that word–” 

“It is! It’s  _ stupid _ !” She was yelling now. “I’m not–I’m not a baby! I want my knife back!” 

In your periphery, you saw Rick moving towards his cell, taking Judith away from the noise. You could feel the others watching the spectacle unfold. 

“Sophie…” You held out a hand, keeping your voice calm. “Are you okay? What’s bringing all of this on? Did something happen?” 

“Not yet! But it will! It always does.” Sophie spat. “You say I’m safe in here but I’m  _ not _ . I know I’m not. Something always happens and then we run. It happened at the school and the neighborhood and it's going to happen here too. So I want my knife with me when it does.” 

Your heart sank at her bleak diagnosis. “Nothing is going to–” 

“ _ Shut up _ !” Sophie screeched. “ _ Mark _ would have let me have my knife! You’re so... _ ugh _ ! I wish he were here instead of you! I wish  _ you’d _ died and he’d lived instead!” 

The air rushed from your lungs like you’d just taken a baseball bat to the gut. Sophie’s face softened immediately, anger melting instantly into regret. 

“I…” You stood, ears ringing. “I need–we can talk about this later.” 

You didn’t wait for her to start yelling again. You just turned on your heel and headed for the door, your vision getting steadily more blurred with each step. The door rumbled as you pulled it open, cold night air washing over you. 

You walked for a while, wanting to put as much distance as you could handle between yourself and that quiet, white-walled space. You sank down onto one of the outdoor benches, dropping your head into your hands. 

Emotions clawed their way through you, crowding your chest, and clogging your throat. Anger, hurt, guilt and an overwhelming sense of failure. You’d failed. As a teacher, as a protector...as a friend. 

You saw Mark’s face beyond the haze of tears. You saw how he smiled at you, through all that pain you could barely imagine. You could still feel the gun, heavy in your hand.

_ “It’s okay, Y/N. It’s alright.” _

It wasn’t okay. It wasn’t alright. 

You’d tried not to think about it for so long. At first, you kept it all inside. You had to get the girls somewhere safe. You had to survive. You could let yourself feel it later. But then you’d come to the prison and had to be a teacher again. You had to be a leader. You had to hold it together. You had to make it okay, you had to  _ be  _ okay. 

But you weren’t okay. 

You curled in on yourself, bringing your legs up and hugging your knees to your chest. Even holding yourself together like this, pressing your face into the denim of your jeans, you fell apart. Tears streamed down your face as sobs wracked your body. Your shoulders shook, tears leaving wet splotches on the blue fabric clinging to your legs. 

You cried, letting the memories and the feelings wash over you. You cried and cried and cried until you couldn’t cry anymore. 

Setting your feet back down on the ground, you took in a deep, shuddering breath.

The world around you began to filter back in– you heard the walkers moaning in the distance, saw the moon hanging bright and full in the sky, and felt the cold prickling against your bare arms. You began to regret your decision of storming off without grabbing your cardigan as a shiver ran through you.

Still, you couldn’t stomach the idea of going back inside. Not yet. 

Sudden warmth spread across your shoulders. You started, surprised at the feeling of fabric touching your skin. The vest settled over you, enveloping you with the scents of leather and cigarette smoke and  _ Daryl. _

The archer settled on the bench beside you without a word. He didn’t even look at you. Just sat there, staring out into the darkness. You studied his profile for a moment, confused and vulnerable in his presence. 

He glanced at you, practiced indifference painted across his face. But you could see the concern in his eyes, the silent question. You sniffed, looking ahead at the dark prison yard and shrugging deeper into the vest. 

Embarrassment burned in your chest. You hated that he was seeing you like this–weak. You probably looked ridiculous, with your puffy eyes and running nose. And he’d heard everything. He’d seen you fail. 

Sophie’s angry face flashed in your mind, worry sparking through you. 

“Sophie, shit.” You cursed, hurriedly swiping the moisture from your face. “I should–” 

“Girl’s fine.” Daryl grunted, digging a hand into his pocket. “Carol’s talkin’ some sense into her.” 

“Oh, no. She shouldn’t have to do–” 

“She does.” Daryl pulled out a beat-up box of cigarettes, grabbing one and sticking it between his lips. “Wants to, I think.” 

You deflated, sinking back down against the bench. You ran a hand through your hair, frustration still swirling in your gut. 

Daryl flicked open his lighter, holding it up to the end of the cigarette and taking a drag. The flame illuminated his face for a second. He looked younger in the warm light, softer somehow. 

His face fell back into shadow. Daryl’s presence made you feel better. More stable. Silence stretched between you for a while longer. 

“Ya want t’talk about it?” He finally rasped, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boot. 

You sighed, considering the offer. The lid was already off. May as well let the pot boil over. 

“We were at our school in the beginning– when it all went to shit. After the news reports started the administration called the day early and told parents to come get their kids before it got worse. Lily’s dad had never been in the picture and her mom...she was hard to get to come to pick-up times, let alone parent conferences. Lily never says much about her, but I think she was an alcoholic. Anyway, she didn’t show. Neither did Sophie’s folks. She was in Mark’s class. Fourth grade. And there was Nicole, um–my best friend.” 

“The nurse?” 

“Yeah.” You nodded, managing a weak smile. “We were all pretty young, you know. Nicole and I were only twenty-four. Mark was twenty-six. We didn’t have families to go to so we stayed with the kids. FEMA came to make the school into a shelter and the Army was supposed to follow but...they didn’t show. More people were there, some other students and their families and people from the town. We made it okay for a while. Mark just sorta ran things. He’s like Rick that way. Nicole taught us what she could about first aid, and I still tried to teach the kids like normal. But the walkers got worse and worse and we didn’t have enough weapons. Mark knew we couldn’t stay. He and I tried to get the others to see it...but they wanted to stay and hold out until the military came. So the five of us hit the road.” 

You took a breath, pulling the vest tighter around your shoulders. The more you talked, the easier the words came, rushing out of you like a flood. 

“We found the subdivision in time for winter that first year. One of those gated community-type places that had been overrun. We managed to get a house secured…but then Mark decided we should clear out the neighborhood as best we could. On the second day Nicole...she got pinned and–I couldn’t get to her in time. I–” You paused, wiping away a fresh wave of tears. “After that we built a fence around the house. A big one, so the girls could come out and play without being in danger all the time. We were okay for a while...and then a herd came through. Right after a huge storm, too. A tree fell and knocked down part of the fence the night before. We didn’t have time to get it back up before they came. While we were running, Mark got bit. And...and I killed him. I had to. I had to…but I–” 

You broke off, taking several long breaths until your heart stopped pounding in your chest. 

“Ya loved him.” Daryl didn’t say it like a question, the words sounded like they were choking him. 

“Yes...no,” You sighed, “Not like that. Mark was like a brother to me. He was family. He...god, I wanted to be like him. You should have seen him with the kids. He was the best teacher I’ve ever seen. And he was so...he was so strong.” 

Daryl paused a moment, still and silent as he took in your words. Then, so quiet you almost couldn’t hear it, he spoke. 

“I killed m’brother.” You remained quiet, waiting for him to continue. “Was always following his sorry ass around. Even at the end, I went off t’go get him. Found him turned, sittin’ there eating somebody. Had to put ‘im down.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Daryl scoffed. “Don’t be. He was a jerk.” 

“Maybe. But you’re not, and I know that was hard. I’m still sorry, Daryl.” You shifted after a moment, turning towards him. “Do you want to tell me about him?” 

Daryl shrugged, but spoke anyway. He told you about Merle and the crazy shit he got into, how he’d dragged Daryl along for most of it. He told you about how Merle would take the brunt of their father’s rage after their mother died, about how he could be caring despite his pig-headedness. He told you about losing Merle in Atlanta and again after the Governor. 

You listened to it all, wondering at the man in front of you. In awe of how someone who’d seen so much hurt, who’d felt so much pain and sadness, could still go on, could be so  _ good _ . You admired Daryl Dixon deeply. More deeply than you thought possible. 

He lapsed once more into silence. Acting on impulse, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. Daryl stiffened at first, as if unsure how to react. But then his arms slowly came up, winding around your waist. 

Daryl exhaled, settling into the embrace. You pressed your nose into his collar, shutting your eyes and enjoying the deep comfort you drew from this man. You felt his grip tighten slightly, drawing you closer. His forehead dropped onto your shoulder as you felt him relax, breathing in time with you. 

After what felt like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, you pulled back enough to look at him. You felt your breath catch in your throat at the look on his face. Daryl stared at you with that same softness you’d seen in his eyes, this time written all over his face. Your heart stuttered as you tried to place the emotion in his face, wondering if it meant what you thought it might. 

“Thank you, Daryl.” You whispered. 

“For what?” 

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head. “For everything.” 

Pulling away completely, you stood up and shrugged off his vest. You handed it to him, intending to head back inside. 

But your impulses got the better of you. You leant back down, pressing a quick kiss to the archer’s cheek. You stood up again and made for the cell block just as fast as you’d kissed him, losing your nerve. 

As you headed back to your cell, you couldn’t help the warmth that spread from your heart through your entire body or the smile stretched wide across your face. 


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've gotten under Daryl's skin.

Daryl sat up in his perch, fiddling with his crossbow. His last hunting trip had left the weapon splattered in mud and walker blood. Daryl studied the mechanisms carefully, using his red bandana to dislodge the bits of grime stuck inside.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, Daryl didn’t even look up. He knew it was you. 

After that night out in the yard, things had shifted between you. Daryl still didn’t know why he’d told you about Merle. He’d never been one to talk much at all, let alone about something so...something like that. Afterwards, he’d half-expected you to finally realize what a lowlife he was and stop talking to him completely. He wouldn’t have blamed you one bit. 

But you came back. You started bringing him dinner on the nights he was up in the guard tower, dropping down beside him with your own plate. You joined him outside, just sitting and looking out into the night together, on that bench where you’d held each other. 

You didn’t talk about that. Or the kiss you’d left on his cheek he could still feel when he closed his eyes. You never addressed it, and Daryl sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up. 

Truthfully, he was afraid. Afraid of admitting how he felt about you, even to himself. Letting that happen was like knocking down all the walls he’d so carefully built. 

But he wondered. Daryl wondered  _ why _ you’d embraced him that night,  _ why _ you always looked at him like he  _ was something _ when he knew damn well he wasn’t. He wondered, but he was too afraid to guess. 

You flopped down onto his cot, sprawling out on your back and staring up at the ceiling. You exhaled, long and slow, reminding him of a balloon with a tiny hole in its side. Daryl glanced over at you, lips quirking in amusement. 

“Long day?” 

“Something like that.” You sighed, turning your head to look up at him from the cot. “You? Catch anything?” 

“S’alright.” Daryl shrugged, “Didn’t find much. Just a couple o’squirrels.” 

You rolled over, propping yourself up on your elbow. 

“Hey, that’s not nothing.” You were using your teacher voice again, and Daryl couldn’t help but meet your gaze. “I wish you would stop doing that.” 

Unease settled in the pit of his stomach at the disappointment in your tone. Daryl shifted, uncomfortable. 

“Doin’ what?” He rasped. 

You sat up fully, studying him. Daryl squirmed under your gaze, skin tingling as he got the sense that somehow you could see through all those walls he’d built. That somehow you’d already gotten inside. 

“Putting yourself down all the time. Whenever you do something good, you brush it off like it isn’t anything important. If I thank you for something, even something huge like  _ saving my life _ , you tell me not to.” 

Daryl stared down at his crossbow, trying to focus on the green and white fletchings of the bolts, trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. 

“You do so much for this place. For these people. You deserve to be appreciated for it.” You sighed, “You are truly the best man I know, Daryl Dixon. Someday, I’ll get you to see it.”

Daryl swallowed thickly, searching for a response that never came. He knew he looked completely brainless, just staring at you, wondering how you could possibly say those things about him, let alone believe them. 

A distinctly childlike voice called your name from the other end of the cell block, drawing your attention. 

“Duty calls.” You stood, flashing Daryl one of your smiles that always made his chest constrict. “See you later, Daryl.” 

“See ya.” He rasped, watching you walk down the stairs and disappear down into the lower level. 

Hours later, after another shift in the guard tower, Daryl returned to his perch. Bone-tired, he just managed to toe off his boots before falling face-first into the lumpy mattress. He inhaled deeply, a rush of calm running down his spine as he realized the bed smelled like you. 

Daryl tangled his hands in the ratty blanket, burying his nose in the fabric. He shut his eyes, beginning to drift off with the sound of your voice in his head. 

_ “You are truly the best man I know, Daryl Dixon _ .” 

~

The air was getting warmer again. Little by little, day by day, spring approached. The sun crawled over the horizon, basking the prison yard in cool morning light. Dew sparkled in the grass, and a few birds landed within the fences, rooting around for worms. 

Daryl watched, legs dangling from the edge of the guard tower platform, as Carol corralled a few others and got started on breakfast for the group. As the sun crept higher and the air got warmer, more people filtered outside. A cluster of kids burst out of D block, somehow already full of energy as they ran for the edge of the basketball court and started to play. 

Every time he heard the rumble of the cell block door, Daryl turned his head to look. He didn’t even realize he was waiting for you, really, until you appeared. 

You walked out with Sophie, crouching down to look her in the eye as you spoke to her before sending her off to play with the other kids.

Daryl hadn’t stuck around to hear whatever Carol had said to Sophie that night. He didn’t have to. Carol had that look in her eye, like a mamma bear ready to protect her young, and Daryl knew it was best to just get on out of the way. Ever since, Sophie was a bit more reserved, a bit more thoughtful. She was more attached to you, too. When he’d walked back inside after your talk that night in the cold, the first thing he saw was you with Sophie wrapped up tight in a big hug. 

It made him sad, somehow, to see that. He didn’t know why. 

Now, wrapping your cardigan tighter around yourself, you stood and watched the kids play. Just the sight of you, the reassurance that you were there, that you were happy, made him feel instantly calmer, more relaxed. 

Daryl shook himself, refocusing on the fences in the distance, eyes sweeping the perimeter. So, you were there. Fine. Why should he care?

Daryl reached into his pocket for a smoke. He could hear Carol making small talk with a few of the Woodbury people as she dished out breakfast. The sound almost covered your footsteps on the tower stairs. 

You settled next to him, your legs dangling off the edge just a few inches away from his. A slight breeze blew through, shifting his bangs over his eyes. He caught a whiff of your scent again, drifting towards him with the wind. 

You smelled like his dreams. 

For just a second, Daryl wanted to hold you again. He wanted to bury his face in the crook of your neck and just  _ forget _ for a while. 

“You should come get something to eat.” You said, turning your head to look at him. “Sasha will be up in a minute to take watch.” 

“M’good.” 

“I know, Daryl Dixon needs neither food nor sleep, just sheer force of outdoorsman will, yadda yadda yadda.” You rolled your eyes, giving him a knowing smile. “But what if I just wanted the company?” 

Daryl could feel the tips of his ears going red. “Got plenty o’company down there.” 

“Yeah,” You bumped his shoulder with yours. “But I don’t like them as much as you.” 

Daryl scoffed, but got to his feet anyway. You weren’t going to give up until he came with you. Better not to waste time prolonging the inevitable. 

Daryl looked down at you, holding out his hand. “C’mon then.” 

You smiled, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. The contact, which usually made his skin crawl and memories flash behind his eyes, comforted him. Daryl didn’t flinch or pull away. His heart rate picked up as he realized he liked the way your palm fit against his.

You seemed to like it too, lacing your fingers through his. He just about felt his heart leap into his throat at that point, hearing his pulse pounding in his ears. You just smiled, oblivious to the sensations overwhelming him as you tugged towards the door. Daryl held on, letting your touch ground him through the spin cycle of his mind. 

Daryl expected you to let go once you reached the edge of the yard. No matter what you said to him when you were alone, it didn’t change the way people were. You didn’t belong with someone like him, and you both knew it. Best not to be seen holding hands with a dirty old redneck. 

Daryl loosened his grip some as the two of you stepped out into the morning sunshine, but you didn’t pull away. He glanced at you in confusion, a small spark of hope igniting in his chest. You just kept on walking towards Carol and her outdoor meal set-up. 

The other residents didn’t even look at you, caught up in conversation or focused on their food. No one noticed or cared about someone as radiant as you walking out with someone like him. 

Well, almost no one noticed. 

Carol’s gaze locked on to the two of you right away, her eyebrows raised in a gesture of suggestion and surprise. Daryl scowled at her, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as a big, knowing smile spread across her face. 

“Good morning,” You greeted the older woman with a smile. “What’s on today?” 

“Bev and I made a bit of oatmeal.” Carol nodded towards Daryl. “The secret was adding some of those walnuts he foraged last week.” 

“It smells delicious.” 

“Well, thank you. Let me make you each a bowl.” 

You squeezed his hand, sending him a gentle smile. Daryl felt it in his chest, all kinds of soft feelings crowding around his heart. 

Then you let go. You had to, in order to accept the bowl from Carol. Still, Daryl felt a distinct sense of loss as you slipped out of reach. 

Daryl refused to dwell on it, though, reaching out to take his own portion. You thanked Carol with another smile before starting slightly. You turned, craning your neck to the side. Daryl glanced around you to find Lily at your hip, tugging on your sweater. 

“Hey, sweetpea. What’s up?” You asked. 

Lily glanced shyly over at Daryl and Carol before fixing her gaze on you once more. Daryl watched understanding cross your face before you turned back to him. 

“I’ll go find us somewhere to sit while Lily and I chat for a minute, okay?” 

Daryl nodded, that inexplicable sad feeling filling his chest once more as he watched you lead the little girl away, keeping a gentle hand on her back. 

“Should I be jealous?”

Carol’s voice brought him back into the moment, pushing his emotions aside. She cocked her head, smiling that stupid older-sister grin at him. 

Daryl scoffed dismissively, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at you. You’d settled on the bench, which he was coming to think of as your spot. Just for you and him. 

“Seriously, are you two...” Carol contemplated her words for a moment before shrugging. “You know.” 

Daryl chewed on the side of his thumb, looking down at the toe of his boot. “Ain’t like that.” 

“Why not?” 

The question caught him off-guard. Daryl raised his gaze, looking at Carol through the hair falling across his eyes. “Cuz...it just ain’t. Wouldn’t make sense, her an’ me.”

“Daryl, that’s a load of shit, and you know it.” Carol sighed. “You’re a good man, Daryl. A whole lot better than most.” Carol said, expression turning serious. “You deserve love, Daryl. You deserve to be loved. Don’t run from this.” 

Her words hit him like a crossbow bolt to the chest. Daryl didn’t reply, letting the realization settle in his mind. 

As much as he hated to admit it, he cared about you. Somehow, somewhere, you’d snuck over the walls he’d put up and found yourself a little place in the back of his mind. And you weren’t leaving any time soon. 

~

Daryl sat on the stairs in C Block, back against the railing and his legs stretched out across the step as he fiddled with his crossbow. Daryl scowled at the weapon, sharpening the tip of a bolt with quick, harsh strokes of his knife. 

Daryl was thinking. He’d been doing that a lot lately, getting wrapped up in his thoughts. He didn’t  _ want _ to. Daryl had always done better with actions, but every time he saw you – whether you were smiling or not, whether you were close by or yards away, whether you were even looking at him or focused on something completely different – he felt something. His chest tightened and his stomach stirred; his heart rate picked up and his palms itched. 

_ You got it bad, baby brother. _ Merle’s voice at the back of Daryl’s mind taunted him.  _ Careful, ‘lil bro. No use getting bent up over some piece of tail. _

Daryl would just scowl and push his brother’s amused sneer from his mind. But the words stuck, echoing around the inside of his skull. 

You were more than just some piece of ass to him. So much more. Hell, if you asked him to bring you the moon, he wouldn’t think twice about it. He cared deeply about you, more deeply than he thought he ever could. 

But that’s what scared him.  _ That’s _ what had him giving the library a wide berth, taking the night watch, and doing his best to put some space between him and you. 

Because caring about you would only cause problems. Daryl wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t blind. He knew what happened when he cared. He knew what that meant for you. He’d seen it too many times already. And the thought of losing you too…Daryl couldn’t endure  _ that. _

So he’d been doing some thinking. Not that it helped much.

He’d been noticeably on-edge, stalking around the prison with a surly expression. No one dared to go near him except for Rick and Carol, and even they’d been met with a gruff, snappish response. 

Truthfully, Daryl wanted you. He wanted the calm you brought with you. He wanted the sound of your voice, going on about whatever you were thinking about. He wanted the smell of you, tangled up in his bedsheets. 

Daryl wanted you and he hated himself for it. 

“You know where Y/N is?” 

Daryl looked up, chest constricting at the sound of your name. Maggie stood at the base of the stairs, looking up at him. 

Daryl let out a dismissive huff. “What’re ya asking me for?”

Maggie cocked her head to the side, seeing straight through his nonchalant bravado. “She wasn’t in the library.” 

“It’s Saturday. Don’t have school on Saturday.” 

“Oh, right,” Maggie nodded, remembering. “You really haven’t seen her?” 

Daryl looked back down, fidgeting with the bolt. 

“Heard Carol ask her t’collect water for the reserve tanks.” 

Maggie hummed. “I was just out there. I didn’t see her in the yard or by the pump.” 

“She’s outside.” 

Daryl and Maggie both turned, noticing the little head poking out of her cell. Lily looked back at them with her big brown eyes. 

“The water came out really slow and muddy and Y/N said the line was probably clogged.” Lily said. “So she went out to fix it and I came back here to read my book. Lizzie and Mika and I are all reading  _ Tom Sawyer  _ together.” 

Daryl got to his feet, unease swirling in his stomach. “Did anybody go with ‘er?” 

“Nope.” Lily answered simply. 

Daryl and Maggie locked eyes. He saw the same worry he felt building within his chest set in her expression. Daryl shouldered his crossbow, rushing down the steps and towards the cell block door, Maggie at his heels. 

As he pulled the door open, they heard the gunshot. Daryl’s stomach plummeted. 

Without another thought, he started to run. His feet slammed against the pavement, the crossbow hitting his back with every jarring step. But Daryl didn’t notice. All he could feel was the fear gripping his heart like an ice cold vice. 

As Daryl passed the first gate and entered the field, he saw you. You were still outside, on the other side of the fence, facing off against four walkers. Alone. 

Daryl pushed even harder, the distance between him and you still too far, his pace too slow. He watched as you kicked the first to attack pushing it back enough for you to stab another in the temple. Taking advantage of the window, you ran to the break in the fence. 

Another shot ran out, taking down a walker coming up behind you. Dimly, Daryl realized the shots were coming from the guard tower. 

More of them were coming now, attracted by the gunfire. You reached the fence, managing to undo the first clamp before you had to turn around and take out another walker. 

Daryl was close now, just a few more seconds. He skidded to a stop at the first fence, Maggie halting just a few feet away. 

Working on pure adrenaline and instinct, Daryl swung the crossbow off his back, hefting it into his arms and loading in a bolt.

You released the second clamp, opening the hole in the fence just as a walker staggered forward. It fell, a bolt stuck between its eyes before its hands even touched the fence. Daryl lowered his crossbow, chest heaving and heart pounding as he watched you close the fence back up and jog down the separated lane to where it connected to the rest of the yard. 

Daryl stayed frozen to the spot, staring vacantly at the small herd of walkers gathering at the fence. He looked at them, but he didn’t see. 

His gaze turned inward, his mind playing a horrifying reel of what could have been. The walkers crowding in, ripping into your flesh with their rotting teeth; the one he’d shot moving just a little faster, or Daryl moving just a little slower, letting the thing grab you and bite you. 

Daryl began to pace, anger bubbling up alongside the fear crowding his chest. He stilled only when he saw you making your way over, your clothes splattered in blood and muck. He shouldered his crossbow once more, as Maggie ran to you. She put her hands on your shoulders, saying something to you that Daryl couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his ears. He watched you nod at her, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides in frustration. Maggie glanced back at Daryl, her expression drawn, before patting you on the shoulder and starting the walk back up to the prison. 

Daryl fought to keep his breathing steady, to calm the emotion in his body as you approached. 

“Thanks for the assist,” You smiled at him, still a bit out of breath. 

Daryl couldn’t hold it in. He couldn’t keep the lid on it anymore. 

“What the hell were ya thinking?” The words burst out of him, the shout more desperate than he’d intended. 

Surprise and confusion passed across your face as you took in his intense expression. 

“The water line was clogged. I had to clear—”

“Why did ya go out alone?” Daryl stepped closer, energy thrumming through him. “Where’d that bright idea come from?” 

You set your jaw, annoyance flashing in your eyes. 

“I can take care of myself.” You challenged. “And you’re one to talk! You  _ always  _ go out alone. Who are you to—look, I didn’t need your help back there. I had it on my own.” 

“I know that!” Daryl shouted, losing track of his thoughts and his words as it all just came tumbling out. “Yer strong, ya take care of people. But ya can’t just go out like that! Ya can’t just go  _ without me _ like that. I can’t…I can’t lose ya too. I—I just, I got this  _ feeling _ like—like I knew ya could be somebody who would...who might...and I wanted t’do the same for ya. But I—”

Daryl stopped short, his rambling cut off as you closed the remaining distance between the two of you. He barely registered the movement and your hands grabbing the collar of his shirt before your lips were on his and his mind went completely and utterly blank. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger! The last chapter will be out on Sunday :D


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your relationship with Daryl is about to change forever. But you're not sure if things are changing for better or for worse...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe we've made it to the last chapter! It feels like I started writing yesterday...
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, keep an eye out in the next few weeks for my next Daryl fic. It's going to be longer (and even slower burn lmao) but I think you'll like it. 
> 
> Anyway, enough stalling! Go read!

You ran across the yard, adrenaline still pumping through your veins as you approached Maggie and Daryl. Maggie jogged to meet you, putting her hands on your shoulders and looking you over with concern. 

“You alright?” 

“Yeah,” You nodded, “I’m fine.” 

“Okay,” Maggie breathed, managing a smile. 

Maggie glanced back at Daryl, who stood a few feet away, watching you with a stony expression. Maggie patted your shoulder before heading back up towards the gate. You took a few steps towards the archer, glancing over at the fallen walker with the arrow in its forehead. 

“Thanks for the assist.” You smiled. 

“What the hell were ya thinking?” 

His words hit you square in the chest, the harsh tone sudden and unexpected. Hurt and confusion swirled in your stomach. 

“The water line was clogged. I had to clear—”

“Why did ya go out alone?” Daryl stepped closer, cutting you off as his voice got louder, more unsteady. “Where’d that bright idea come from?” 

The confusion and hurt flared into annoyance at the sarcasm in his last question. You set your jaw, determined.

“I can take care of myself.” You challenged, meeting his gaze. “And you’re one to talk! You always go out alone. Who are you to—look, I didn’t need your help back there. I had it on my own.” 

“I know that!” Daryl shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. “Yer strong, ya take care of people. But ya can’t just go out like that! Ya can’t just go without me like that. I can’t…” 

His gaze softened some, his voice lowered from a shout to a shaking rasp. Guilt lanced through your chest as you considered his words. If he’d been the one in your place, if you’d been stuck behind the fence while he fought...

“I can’t lose ya too.” Your stomach flipped at that, the leftover adrenaline setting your nerves on edge as you looked at him. “I—I just, I got this feeling like—like I knew ya could be somebody who would...who might...and I wanted t’do the same for ya. But I—”

You moved before you really knew what you were doing, propelled by the unanswered questions and the feelings you saw mirrored in his expression. With the worn fabric of his shirt in your hands, you pulled Daryl closer and pressed your lips to his. 

You kissed him with everything you had, pouring everything you needed him to know into the contact between you. You knew Daryl wasn’t good at expressing himself with words. He was a man of thought and action. You hoped, with nerves thrumming through you, that he might open up through  _ this. _ No words needed, just a kiss. 

But that’s not what happened. You realized, quickly, that he wasn’t moving. Daryl just stood there, rigid and frozen to the spot. He didn’t reach out to touch you, he didn’t lean into it, and he definitely didn’t kiss you back. 

You pulled away, horror and shame filling your stomach. Taking a few steps back, you looked at him. Daryl blinked at you, his usual stoic mask replaced with shock. 

“Oh, God.” You covered your mouth, feeling embarrassment burning your cheeks. “I’m sorry. I thought–oh, God. I’m sorry…I–” 

You trailed off, stumbling backwards. Unable to look at him anymore, you turned and fled. You ran across the field, only looking back once you’d passed the gate and into the yard. 

Daryl was right where you’d left him, standing alone at the edge of the fence. He hadn’t turned to watch you go. He hadn’t called after you. You’d screwed up so bad, he couldn’t even look at you.

You felt the lump growing in your throat, the disappointment and self-loathing building in your chest. You managed to keep it at bay a while longer, pushing the feelings down until you reached the cell block. 

Alone in one of the shower stalls, you let it out, frustrated tears mixing with the water. 

You couldn’t believe yourself, to do something that impulsive and  _ stupid.  _ You  _ knew  _ he wasn’t a touchy person. You’d seen him flinch away when others tried to put a hand on his shoulder or inspect an injury. You knew he kept to himself. You’d known that from the very first day you’d arrived. 

Despite knowing all that, you’d started to hope. Daryl hadn’t flinched away from you. He held your hand. He let you rest your head on his shoulder. He’d even embraced you, out there under the stars. Sometimes, when you sat with him, you’d catch him looking at you. Just for a second, you’d get a glimpse of something–that soft look you could never quite read.

You’d started to hope he felt the same way you felt about him. That maybe, just maybe, he liked spending time with you, too. That just sitting together gave him the same sense of calm belonging that it gave you. That he had your back.

When he’d come running just then, with that wild look in his eye like he was ready to move mountains and break the sky in half, you started to believe it. 

But you were wrong. You were wrong, and now you’d ruined everything. You’d broken whatever connection the two of you had. And now you had to face the consequences. 

After your shower, you felt a bit better. You never ceased to wonder at the clarity and calm that came from being cleaner and warmer than you were before. 

The hurt was still there, like a stone sitting in the pit of your stomach. You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of loss. Not as intense as when you’d lost Mark. That had been sharp and devastating. This was different. This was dull and aching and made you slightly ill. 

Now wearing less-bloodstained clothes you fell backwards onto your bed, staring blankly up at the underside of the top bunks. 

_ Heartsick. _ You realized numbly, this was what heartsickness feels like. Well, it wasn’t all the poets had cracked it up to be. It sucked. 

“Hey, you.” A soft voice came from the doorway. 

You sat up, seeing Maggie leaning her hip against the wall of your cell. 

“Hey, Mags.” You said, your throat still raw from crying. 

At the sound, her brows drew together in sudden understanding. Maggie crossed the small space of your cell, dropping down onto the cot and pulling you into a hug. You wrapped your arms around your friend, resting your chin against her shoulder. 

Maggie patted your back gently, “What happened?” 

“I screwed up.” You whispered, feeling the lump growing in your throat again. 

“No, you didn’t.” Maggie pulled back, making you look her in the eye. “Daryl shouldn’t have yelled at you, but he was just worried–”

“I kissed him.”

Maggie froze, her eyes widening. 

“I know,” You covered your face with your hands. “He was saying all this stuff about how I shouldn’t go without him because he can’t lose me and I thought–I don’t know, I thought he...but he just stood there like a brick wall. God, I’m so stupid.” 

“Hey, no.” Maggie pulled your hands away from your face. “You’re not stupid.” 

“Well I just did a really stupid thing!” You exclaimed. “I ruined whatever we had. He was finally...God, he was finally  _ my friend _ and I ruined it.”

“You didn’t ruin it.” 

“You didn’t see his face, Maggie. He looked like I’d just handed him a dead rat.” 

“I don’t think Daryl would mind being handed a dead rat.” Maggie mused. 

“You know what I mean!” You groaned, shoulders slumping again in defeat. 

“Did he say anything?” 

“He didn’t have to.” 

“But you didn’t talk about it?” Maggie pressed. 

“No, I couldn’t–I walked away.” You sighed. “He didn’t follow me or call after me or anything, either.” 

Maggie was quiet for a moment, thinking. Finally, she took your hands in hers, eyes alight with an idea. 

“You should go talk to him.” 

“What? No.  _ No.” _

“Why not?” Maggie challenged. “I don’t think you ruined anything. I think you just surprised the poor man. He’s not exactly used to that kind of thing.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, considering her advice. As much as you hated to admit it, she had a point. 

“Think about it, okay?” Maggie patted your knee, getting up. “You both deserve to be happy.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Just go talk to him!” She called, the sheet fluttering closed behind her. 

You flopped back down onto the mattress with a huff. Despite your doubts and the lingering heartsickness, you began to feel a little of that hope trickling back in. 

You didn’t see Daryl again until after nightfall. By the time you’d gathered your courage and went out to find him, he’d left the field. Went straight out of the prison on his bike, apparently. 

No one could tell you exactly where he’d gone. Glenn had asked him before opening the gate, but the only information the archer had volunteered was a surly “out.” 

Glenn studied you carefully when he told you, expression full of knowing and pity. 

“I was up in the tower when you went outside,” He said, “I saw...I saw what happened.” 

“Oh.” 

“He’ll come around.” Glenn patted your shoulder gently. “I’ve never seen Daryl be the way he is with you before. You’re...you’re good together.” 

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond. Glenn and Maggie could think what they wanted, but you wouldn’t be sure of anything until you heard it from the archer himself. As if he could sense your uncertainty, Glenn offered a reassuring smile.

“I’ll let you know when he’s back.” He said. 

“That’s okay,” You managed a smile, “I’m going to take watch tonight. Wait until he comes back.” 

Glenn looked surprised for a moment before his expression melted into a smile, this one softer, more knowing. 

“Okay.” 

You were sitting on the edge of the platform, cardigan pulled tight around your shoulders when you heard the telltale rumble of Daryl’s motorcycle. Tyreese opened the gate to let him in. You stood up, watching as he dismounted and spoke briefly with the other man. 

You hovered there for a moment, unsure whether you should go to him or not, when Tyreese turned and pointed up at you. Daryl craned his neck, catching sight of you. Even from the distance, his blue eyes made your heartbeat pick up and your stomach flutter. 

Daryl started towards the tower, walking his bike up the field. The closer he got, the more nervous you became. He leaned the motorcycle against the tower wall and disappeared behind the lower door. You decided to play it cool, sitting back down on the platform and staring out at the night. 

The door opened behind you, followed by Daryl’s soft footsteps. He hesitated for a moment before settling down beside you. He kept several inches of space between your bodies, letting his legs dangle over the edge. Daryl swung his crossbow off his back, setting it down on his other side. 

Neither of you spoke for a while. 

You weren’t sure where to even start. Now that you had him back, at least a little bit, you didn’t want to rush in and screw it all up again. You were afraid–afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of scaring him off again, afraid of breaking whatever this fragile  _ thing _ was for good.

Daryl shifted, searching for something in his pocket. You turned your head slightly, wanting to see without making him feel watched. He pulled something out, fiddling with it for a moment. Then, with a sudden motion, he held his hand towards you. His palm was open, facing the sky. You looked down, curiosity winning out over your nonchalant facade.

There, in the center of his palm, lay a small enamel pin shaped like an apple. 

Gingerly, you picked it up, bringing it closer to your face. It was slightly scratched, but the red and green accessory was wiped clean of any grime, shining gently in the moonlight. 

“I know–” Daryl cleared his throat, “I know teachers are supposed t’get real apples, but it ain’t th’right season, so…” 

You felt tears gathering behind your eyes again, but not from hurt or embarrassment. 

“Daryl…” You whispered, turning to stare at him in awe. 

“I shouldn’t’ve yelled at ya before.” Daryl said quickly, looking out at the yard. “‘M sorry for...for reactin’ how I did.” 

“Me too.” You swallowed thickly. “I–I shouldn’t have kissed you like that.” 

Daryl stiffened. Your heart sank.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, looking down at your lap and trying to keep the tears away. 

“‘M not.” 

A shot of adrenaline hit your system, your pulse ringing in your ears. You turned to look at him, breath catching in your throat as your gaze met his sky blue eyes. 

“What?” 

“‘M not sorry ya kissed me.” 

He had that soft look in his eyes again. The kind that made you want to kiss him again, to hold him, and to know everything about him. 

“I ain’t ever met anyone like ya, Y/N.” Daryl swallowed, gaze falling to his hands as he fidgeted. “Yer strong. Ya can handle me, so I  _ know  _ ya can handle yerself.” 

You let out a breathless chuckle, hanging onto his every rasping word. 

“Day we met, ya came back t’help me. Nobody ever...I mean, ya didn’t even  _ know _ me. But ya had my back.” 

“I’ll always have your back.” You promised. “Always.” 

Daryl met your gaze again, “ _ Why? _ ” 

You almost laughed at that. It was the easiest answer you could have given. 

“Because you have my back. You’ve had my back from about two seconds after we met. Because you’re the best man I’ve ever known, Daryl Dixon. Because  _ I care about you _ .” 

Daryl shook his head. 

“‘M just some ol’redneck. If things were...if none of this–” He gestured towards the fence where you could hear the walkers snarling, “had ever happened, ya wouldn’t’ve looked at me twice. I wasn’t…’m not–” 

Taking a chance, you reached out and covered his hand with yours. Daryl stopped talking, but he didn’t flinch or pull away. Testing the waters a little more, you flipped his hand over and intertwined your fingers. 

“But all of this  _ did  _ happen. And we’re here. And I definitely looked at you more than twice.” 

Daryl shifted uncomfortably, staring down at your hands bridging the space between you. 

“You’re a handsome guy, Daryl.” You insisted, smiling.

Daryl scoffed. You couldn’t quite tell in the darkness, but you were fairly certain his ears had gone completely red. He looked at you again, soft and nervous.

“Sometimes I think I ain’t ever seen anything prettier than when ya smile.” He admitted, so quietly you almost missed it. 

But you didn’t miss it. Your heart swelled, making your smile wider and brighter. Affection filled your chest, admiration pushing its way up your throat, and  _ love _ clouding your vision. Daryl stilled. You squeezed his hand, leaning ever so slightly closer to the archer. 

“I want to be with you.” You said. “Whatever that means, I’ll take it. Friends, or something else. I got your back, Daryl. You can let me in.” 

Daryl stared at you in disbelief. His gaze tracked from your eyes down to where your hand remained firmly in his grasp, like he expected you to turn to dust or wake him up from a dream. Slowly, he raised your hand towards his face. You felt his breath on your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. Daryl brushed his lips against your knuckles, his eyes meeting yours once more. 

“Alright.” 

~

A loud thump sounded, waking Daryl. He sat up quickly, heart pounding as he tried to get his bearings and face whatever danger had emerged. 

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” You sat down on the edge of the lower bunk, flashing an apologetic smile. 

“What happened?” Daryl grumbled, blinking blearily against the morning light.

“Dropped a book.” You reached forward, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Everything’s fine, go back to sleep.” 

You pulled away, moving to get up again. He felt instantly colder, which wouldn’t do at all. Daryl grabbed your hand, tugging you back towards him.

“Where’d ya think yer goin’?”

“I have to go to work,” You shook your head, smiling. 

Despite your protests, you still settled down beside him. Daryl wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You dropped your head onto his shoulder, the warmth of your breath on his neck sending a tingle down his spine. 

“Ya got time.” He murmured, burying his nose in your hair. 

Daryl shut his eyes again, just breathing you in made him feel calmer, steadier. He felt safe with you in his arms. He lay there with you for a while, unsure if it had been an hour or just a few minutes. Your breathing began to even out, and you yawned, stretching against him. 

“I should really go…” You whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his collarbone. “If I stay any longer, I might not leave at all.” 

“Kids won’t mind. Day off’s a day off.” Daryl argued, lips quirked up in a mischievous smile. 

You sat up again, sticking your tongue out at him. Daryl felt his chest tighten at the adorable gesture, affection fluttering in his stomach. He sat up against the wall, watching as you pulled your boots on and tried to fix your hair. You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“I’ll see you later?” You asked, turning back to look at him. 

“Yeah,” Daryl nodded. “No runs today.” 

“Okay,” You smiled, leaning in and kissing his cheek.

Daryl couldn’t help himself. He reached up, cradling the back of your head in his palm. Daryl turned his head, pressing a kiss to your lips. You melted immediately, your hands falling to his chest as you kissed him back. 

He pulled away first, eliciting a disappointed noise from the back of your throat. Daryl just chuckled, nudging you back towards the door. 

“Go on, now.” 

“You’re the worst.” You pouted, no real animosity behind the words. “I’m going to get you back for that.” 

“Good luck,” He huffed, knowing he’d gladly take any punishment you threw at him. 

The light filtering through the gaps in the sheet caught on the pin stuck to your collar as you gathered a few books from the top bunk. Pride flared in Daryl’s chest at the sight. You wore that apple every day like a badge of honor. 

Sure it looked nice, but it was also a little piece of him– a small reminder that you had him and he had you. And that felt pretty damn good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU so so much for your wonderful comments and kudos and general support. It means so much <3

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment below if you liked it! Chapter two coming soon!


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